


The Mayhem of Mercia

by EmrystheWarlock



Series: The Mayhem of Mercia [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen, Prince Merlin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-08 02:54:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11072592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmrystheWarlock/pseuds/EmrystheWarlock
Summary: It's just another visiting monarch...or is it?





	The Mayhem of Mercia

The dirt danced underneath Merlin's boots. He trudged through the woods, kicking up loose dirt and mumbling about something or other. Occasionally, Merlin would stop and inspect a plant, holding it up and squinting at it in the sunlight. Belladonna. Used as a sedative and to supposedly make women more beautiful. Merlin stuffed it in his satchel and moved on.

Contrary to popular belief, Merlin quite enjoyed herb hunting. The woods brought a welcome reprieve to castle life and made Merlin feel more at one with the earth. When he was out here, all alone except for the chirping of the birds and the rustle of the leaves, Merlin could simply be. He could practically feel the magic of the earth, rooted into all of nature and moving like a smooth current in, through, and all around him. It was peaceful and if Merlin hadn't a destiny to see to, he could see himself becoming one of those men of the wild, forsaking the ways of man and embracing the earth and all its gifts.

But alas, that was not who he was meant to be and he couldn't quite see himself in a world without Arthur Pendragon in it, even if he was a prat. The crack of a snapped twig brought him out of his musings. Distantly, Merlin could hear the steady rhythm of horse hooves coming closer, closer. Merlin dropped his satchel in his haste to move out of the animals' path, and watched from his place on the ground as it was trampled underneath their destructive hooves. One of the men, a knight by the looks of it, shot him a look of disgust as he rode passed.

Thoroughly annoyed, _Mer_ lin got up and brushed off his clothing, which were now covered in the dust and dirt the animal's hooves had kicked up. He sighed and made his way over to the remains of his satchel, picking it up gingerly and sifting through the inside for any intact herbs. There were none.

It was only now that Merlin noticed the peculiar colors of the party's clothing. Not Pendragon red but a deep royal blue and distinct silver. It seemed that Camelot was due to host Mercia.

-/-/-/-/-/-

As it turned out, the twenty third year of Uther Pendragon's reign happened to be the year Mercia's and Camelot's peace treaties were to be renewed, a decade long tradition that could, under no circumstances be ignored, which, it seemed that His Royal Prattliness, Prince Arthur, had failed to mention in any way to Merlin.

Merlin stormed into the Prince's chambers, a scowl on his face and a path of mud leftover from the forest trailing behind him. He had had to have been told by Gwen of all people! Of course, he couldn't really be angry with her per se, and Arthur was under no real obligation to tell him anything concerning the kingdom and its politics, but it still rankled to be the only bloody person in the entire kingdom without a clue of what was happening.

"You didn't tell me the Mercian delegation was arriving!" Merlin cried, a rant a thousand words long forming on his lips. Arthur, for his part, looked entirely bemused, a small smirk quirked at the corner of his life. He looked entirely relaxed from his position at the window, dressed in dark hues of red for his shirt, and browns for his trousers.

"You do realize, _Mer_ lin, that I, as the Crown Prince of Camelot, am not your personal messenger boy, and as such have no such duties pertaining to that station." Merlin opened his mouth to retort, but Arthur cut him to it. "And not to mention, the citadel has been in preparation for weeks for the Mercia delegation's arrival. If you would only get your head out of the clouds, you would have known this already."

Thoroughly chastised, Merlin closed his mouth and looked down rather ashamedly. It wasn't often Arthur ever managed to shut him up, and when he did it was considered a major accomplishment. And yet, Arthur looked anything but pleased. If anything, he looked slightly worried a frown marring his features and peering at Merlin through calculating eyes, as if assessing a problem he had yet to fix.

And oh, it just would not do to have Arthur looking into him. He had many a secret a hide after all. So, still looking down, he muttered a barely audible "prat" to the silence of the room. It did, of course, have the desired effect. Arthur straightened, looking for all the world as if he had cracked the world's greatest problem with a prattish smirk on his face.

"Well, Merlin. It seems I have no more need of you. Take the day off, and walk around the marketplace, or whatever useless manservants do on their day off." Merlin gaped at him. Arthur had never given him the day off before. "Oh, and don't forget to be back before the banquet. I won't suffer through another night of George and his useless prattle."

And with that, Arthur grabbed at the back of his jacket and essentially shoved him out of his chambers, an effective slam reverberating through the door behind him. "Well," Merlin said, an expression of shock on his face. He looked down the barren hallways, and out the window where the buzz of the marketplace was coming from.

"What on earth does one do on their day off?"

-/-/-/-/-/-/-

It seems that one was not supposed to confront a mob of angry Mercian Knights on his day off, nor was one supposed to find themselves running from them in the marketplace during the busiest hour of the day. But, it also seemed that every person's luck was to run out someday, and Merlin never had the best of luck in the first place.

"Stop that boy!" Mercian number one yelled, following a short distance behind Merlin with three of his Mercian buddies backing him. It was not as if Merlin had meant to hit the one with an apple. He was just trying to entertain the children, and maybe annoy the pillocks who called themselves Knights of Mercia, without causing any serious damage of course. But, as it turns out, angry, prattish Knights do not, in fact, like being pelted in the face with fruit, no matter which kingdom they are from.

 _Hah. Serves them right._  Merlin thought smugly, casting a glance back over his shoulder at Mercian number three, who was sporting a rather nasty looking black eye. Teach royalty for putting their faithful subjects in the stocks.

Just then, a rope that Merlin swore was not there five seconds ago pulled taught, tripping Merlin and sending his sprawling in the dirt. Laughter sounded as the Mercians surrounded him, and Merlin didn't have to turn to see the smug looks flitting across their faces.

"It seems that this is twice now that we meet under...compromising circumstances." Mercian number one grinned, and Merlin let out an incredulous huff underneath his gaze.

"You mean like trampling me in the forest." Merlin retorted dryly. "That was a whole mornings work ruined." The knight looked unconcerned, and if anything almost disgusted to be in any way at one time associated with a simple peasant such as Merlin himself.

His smirk twisted into a sneer. "And you mean like pelting my..." He paused, as if deciding what to call the band of bullies behind him. "Acquaintances." He decided on on. "And I with fruit." Merlin winced slightly. No matter how big of prats they were earlier that morning, they probably didn't deserve to be pelted with apples of all things. Maybe grapes?

"Then it seems I shall have to aim lower next time, my friends." Merlin said with a flourish and a mocking bow, seeing as it had already been sometime after he had stood up and brushed himself off. And perhaps friends wasn't exactly the right word to use. Merlin fidgeted nervously, and brushed a hand at his ear almost unconsciously.

"Friends?" The man growled, and all of a sudden, his sneer seemed a whole lot more menacing. "You dare call us friends." He took a step forward the same time Merlin took a step back, only to bump into Mercian number two. He really needed to figure out these guy's names.

Merlin pulled at his collar nervously. "Well, you see, my frie- I mean lords. I think this was all just a big misunderstanding and if we could all just stop and-" Merlin caught a glimpse of something shiny and pointed grasped in the leader's hand. "Hang on a moment." Merlin cried, casting a placating hand in the air. "You can't just go around killing people simply because they annoyed you. I'm the personal manservant to Prince Arthur himself and I swear to God I will tell him you're all behaving like children if you don't stop this -!"

"You'll tell on us like a snitch!" Ugly laughed hollowly. "Now who's the child?" He gave a sharp nod to his mates. "Forget him. We're wasting our time." They roughly dropped him to the ground. And seriously, that was three times today. They started walking away, but as if in an afterthought, the Leader turned back.

"And just so you know, Merlin." And Merlin had to wonder how on earth he knew his name. "You'll find that it would be wise to start picking your battles." He picked himself up, pointedly puffing out his chest and standing as tall as he could. "My name is Sir Kay and I am a Prince of Mercia."

As the man, Kay, he thought sourly, walked away, Merlin flopped on the ground with a groan.

_What. An. Idiot._

-/-/-/-/-/-/-

The feast was not as grande nor as prestigious as he had originally thought. Mercia had a reputation for eccentricity and overformality, turning what should have been a dinner with show sort of thing into a full scale  production balle with intermission included. But, it seemed that luck was with Merlin for the first time all day. The nobles were nobles, talking through a broad variety of topics ranging from best dressed to which lady would be the first to work up the courage and approach Prince Kay.

 _He's not even particularly handsome._ Merlin glowered. The wall he was glaring at stayed irritatingly silent. He's not that intelligent either. What sort of royal idiot doesn't even have the common curtesy to apologize, or say thank you, or even please. It's common decency! The wall had no input, per usual.

"You stare at that wall as if it holds all of life's secrets in the balance." Merlin jerked and blinked. An impish looking Gwen was staring at him, a slight smile curving her lips. Despite himself, Merlin felt himself flush. He gave a mock thoughtful expression, cocking his head to the side and furrowing his brow.

"Well, it is a rather nice looking wall." Gwen let out a light laugh.

"You are a strange one, Merlin." Merlin smiled brightly at her, and it was not at all faked. Leave it to Gwen to raise him out of a stupor with nothing but a kind smile and a few light hearted words. The noises of the feast continued and since both Arthur and Morgana were already on their third glass and Arthur was busy talking with King Lot to pay any mind to Merlin, they would not be required any time soon. It seemed that Gwen was thinking along the same lines.

Subtly, they inched their way backwards to the corner of the room, where people were less likely to pay attention to two nameless servants but were still easily located if either Arthur or Morgana needed them. Laughter rang out across the halls, coming from none other than the Mercian prince and his mates. Merlin glared daggers in the back of his head, the events of earlier still ringing true in his head.

Gwen clutched her wine pitcher to her chest. "Have you seen the way he looks at you, Merlin?" She murmured, as if he could hear her from over fifteen feet away. It was obvious who she was speaking of. "He looks at you like your a piece of meat." And indeed, it did seem that way.

Ever since the crossing in the woods and the standoff in the market, the Mercian Prince had given him dirty looks wherever he could, which wasn't entirely unusual, since Merlin wasn't known for his good graces with the royalty, but unnerving none the less. "You haven't done anything to entice him, have you?" She questioned, worried. Merlin wondered if the throwing fruit thing counted. "Me? Causing trouble? Nah." Merlin grinned at her. Of course, Merlin was anything but convincing. "Only you, Merlin." She sighed, and leaned back against the wall.

The ring of glass broke out and the crowd fell silent. Merlin half expected it to be Arthur calling for everyone's attention, but it was Lot, the King of Mercia. Briefly, Merlin and Arthur's eyes met, and Merlin only had a brief moment to catch a glimpse of something, perhaps worry, in them before Arthur turned away. Merlin was concerned. Perhaps this delegation meant more than he had originally considered. It stung to think that Arthur might have hid something truly important from him, even though he wasn't technically an adviser to him.

"Lords and Ladies of the court," the Mercian King started. "We are gathered here tonight as a sign of peace between our two peoples, an alliance I hope will stand long after I have passed on. It is my belief that we can maintain this peace without war or blood shed. There need not be animosity between our people for many seasons to come, thanks in part to the tireless efforts of both I and King Uther of Camelot." Kings Lot paused for a breath, or perhaps for effect. Judging by the mood of the room, which was tolerant at best, Merlin had a very, very bad feeling this was just the calm before the storm. "However." And there it was. "It has recently been brought to my attention that although I am still young at heart, the rest of me is getting on in years, and for this very reason, I find myself in need of an heir to take my place on the Throne of Mercia once I have gone. I need an heir that is wise and fair and trustworthy and one who will lead my people well. But I also need one of my own flesh and blood." For some strange reason, Prince Kay seemed to be glaring daggers at him even harder than before. Merlin shivered. If looks could kill..."As such, I find myself only capable of finding one such man here, in the very heart of Camelot." Again, Arthur looked pointedly back at him, as if trying to warn him. "When I was upon my very first wife, the one whom still holds my heart even these many years later, she grew pregnant with child. We were happy for many months until the day came when my love died in childbirth, taking the child with her, or so I thought." Merlin remained at a loss, though rising suspicions was making itself known. "My newly born child was stolen away from me in the midst of my grief , for reasons unknown to this day for his very existence was not made known to me until a scant few months ago. I received a letter from a peasant woman by the name of Hunith of Ealdor, who confessed my child had turned up on her doorstep twenty one seasons ago through a letter I have here." He waved a scrap of parchment around the room and even from this distance, Merlin could tell the words were shaped in his mother's tidy scrawl. A piece of Merlin's heart broke. If Arthur had hidden this from him... Things were starting to add up, and not in a way that benefited Merlin. Kay, for one, and his almost murderous glares throughout their short stay. Although, that did raise the question. Where was Sir Kay in all this? "Through this letter, she told me of how the boy had departed on his eighteenth birthday to the Kingdom of Camelot, where he hoped to find a home and a family who would accept him and his gifts." Merlin tensed. So King Lot knew. "While many of you know him as a bumbling fool of a servant who throws rank and court etiquette out the window as if it is something shameful to be in association with-" Gwen was standing rigidly beside him, eyes wide and a slightly betrayed look on her face. As if it were _Merlin's_  fault the king was only telling him now. "He is, in fact, a member of the nobility of Mercia. He is a friend to many here, an ally to both knight and peasant. He has undoubtedly done something, no matter how small for all of you present here, and more. He has the ear of many in the court. He is none other than the king's manservant. His name-" And once again, that dramatic pause for effect. Merlin really wished they would stop doing that, and yet, at the same time he wished the moment would drag on forever and ever as to keep this moment as it was, and not something that would change his life forevermore. He was Merlin, not some stuck-up prat of a prince from Mercia. Just Merlin. Just Merlin until a few seconds longer. "His name is Merlin."

A cacophony of noise, some good, some bad, although it all seemed the same to Merlin, erupted throughout the hall as the collective nobility of Camelot jumped to their feet, all eyes searching for the man in question. Arguments broke out and accusations went flying as people shouted over each other to make their opinion known, as if the idea of a servant being the heir to a throne was the most ludicrous idea of the century, which it probably was.

And as the screams grew louder and the crowds barreled closer to him, the Knights of Camelot efforts to subdue them were useless. Merlin slumped against the wall, and grabbed at his hair with both of his fists, head bent and eyes averted away from the crowd. This wasn't happening. This wasn't happening. Short, gasping breaths broke out from him, welling up from somewhere deep inside. A greedy hand snatched at him, taking a piece of his neckerchief with them. Whoever he was was shoved backward to be lost in the crowd as more people surged forward. He was going to _die._ Here. Now. He was going to be _murdered_ by this bloodthirsty crowd. And he was panicking. _Panicking. P-A-N-I-C-K-_

Another hand snatched at him making Merlin flinched back even though he was cornered between walls. Gwen was long gone. Except this time, the owner of the hand wasn't one seeking him harm. Sympathetic eyes met his. Arthur's eyes. Eyes he could trust. Or could he? Everything was a jumbled mess inside his head. Nevertheless, he took the offered hand and stood up making sure to cling closely to Arthur, which did not sound _at all_ girly. The Knights, who had finally seemed to organize themselves, formed a blockade from Merlin to the door, his exit, his freedom. Arthur walked calmly from the hall, grasping a thoughtless looking Merlin's hand behind him.

Never once did he let go.

**Author's Note:**

> Please excuse the jumbled mess that is this fic. It is part of a continuation of something I wrote in the 7th grade. Also, ignore the plot bunny that is Sir Kay. I plan to explain his role in a part 2 if possible, and hopefully get someone to edit it for me in the process.


End file.
